Adverse Effects
by ScarlettWrites
Summary: Our story begins the first morning of Loki's imprisonment. How on earth will he find ways to have fun in here? When the lights go up, the occupant of the cell opposite him captures his interest. Loki has a new toy, but this one, it seems fights back... Comments & creative criticism welcome, this is my first ever story! *COMPLETE* *SLOW BURNER-Only OC belongs to me*
1. Chapter 1

The man with green eyes stared up at the blank, white ceiling stretching above him, gleaming dimly in the dark of the room.

"Rise and shine, you miserable wretches! Half an hour until lights up!"

Sighing with tired acceptance, the fallen Prince began to rise, listening to the sounds of his fellow captives stirring in the cells beyond his own. He hadn't slept much, contemplating his imprisonment and endlessly scheming about escape routes. Now he sat on the edge of his bed, opulent for a gaol but fitting of his social status, and rubbed his eyes, mentally drained.

He rose, pulling on the black breeches and green overshirt he had discarded on the back of his chair the night before.

Last night. His first of many within these walls. Last night, when he had been viciously thrown into his shiny, white cage, smiling back at his guards maniacally.

Last night, turning to laugh at his oaf of a brother before the light extinguished and all was dark.

Pulling on his boots, he walked over to the shimmering window of magic that kept him apart from the world outside. He peered out, straining to see something, anything of the dungeons and it's other inhabitants but, until the lights rose, he knew he would be unable to. Even in the prisons of Asgard, some vestige of privacy was respected.

At least he would try and have _some_ fun.

He leaned against the wall next to him with his forearm, hand balled into a tight fist and glared out into the gloom. While he couldn't use magic here, he could still certainly use his powers of intimidation and, merely to stave off sheer boredom, the miserable occupant of the opposite cell was going to feel the full force of his menace.

A smug expression on his face, he waited, imagining the jolt of fear that would run through their eyes. Probably a dark elf or fire demon. Or one of the marauders that tore apart Vanaheim. Ugly brutes, but no match for the pressure he could convey with his piercing gaze.

With a metallic whirr, the power flared up and light poured into the cells.

He struggled for a few seconds to focus, the brightness disorientating his retinas. The blurred shape before him walked slowly about it's hold. As the thing that faced him became clear, his bravado fell and an intake of breath surged unconsciously into him.

Whatever he was expecting, it was not this. No indeed.

Loki's 'neighbour', was a woman.


	2. Chapter 2

She strode calmly about her sparsely furnished cell, dressed in only her navy, prison-issue leggings, boots and a well worn cream corset, cropped under her ribs and laced tightly up her chest.

She was oblivious, it seemed, to him watching her, languidly pulling on a cream overshirt, several sizes too big, and pulling her long, auburn curls from beneath it's collar. She was lithe, strong and yet, undeniably soft; curved in that effortlessly seductive way that Loki was fond of.

He watched her delicate hands wrap a belt about her waist and smooth back the strands of hair that clung to her face. He took in her creamy, pale skin and the roses that bloomed over her high cheekbones and in her lips.

This confinement may be more fun than he anticipated.

As he watched her move resignedly about her room, he thought of all the ways he could torture her.

Her; strapped to his bed, begging him to release her.

Her; screaming for him to stop as he pinned her against the wall.

Her tears, as he conjured images in her head of everything she loved dying while he forced himself into her.

Oh yes, he would enjoy breaking this one, if only from afar.

He was confident he could do so.

She was already sad and therefore vulnerable, he could see, from her time being imprisoned. But what for, he wondered? Why incarcerate such a delicate bloom in a dungeon of thorns?

His reverie was broken, suddenly and swiftly, as she stiffened, sensing that she was being watched. Blue eyes flashed upwards to meet his green.

But it was not the intensity of that blue that shocked him into standing upright and stepping backwards.

It wasn't the flecks of silver that lay in them or the sweetness of the pink lips that flew open in a gasp as she met his gaze.

It was the hate. The sheer abhorrence of him that radiated from under her furrowed brow. And the growl that came from her as she threw her fist up to the magical barrier, sending sparks across the screen and burning her hand badly.

Loki cocked an amused eyebrow at her as the guards chained her and led her out to be healed, those blue eyes glaring darkly at him as she was dragged away.

Not a rose then... but a tiger.


	3. Chapter 3

Without her to occupy him, Loki turned to his books, a stack of his favourites allowed to accompany him to his confines by his Mother. Odin would have not permitted such frivolous luxuries. While he _was_ a prisoner, he still remained a Prince, though fallen, and as such, his cell was relatively comfortable. Double bed, chair, footstool, table, even his washbasin was solid gold... but his books? Definitely his Mother's doing.

He distractedly flipped through page after page, but could not concentrate. The woman burned persistently at his mind, the anger surging from such a beautiful creature only intriguing him more. What was her story?

Loki threw his book aside and jumped from his bed, pacing stormily about the chamber.

He trained his eyes on her quarters, the crumpled mattress in the corner, the wooden chair, the enamel washbasin. There was nothing else. Nothing to help him guess at her identity.

With a thud, the dungeon doors opened and the guards flanked them as the servants made their way in with breakfast. Bread and water was flung into slots in the barriers, though not, Loki observed into 'hers'. His own breakfast of wine and fruit, he saw, had not changed from his days of freedom.

"Slave, tell me something..." he called to the boy at his window.

"My Lord?" the boy replied, eyes downcast.

"The woman who inhabits the cell across the way, who is she?"

"I... I'm not sure I can say my Lord..."

"TELL ME!" Loki roared, thrusting the pile of books from the table.

The boy jumped back as they sparked against the barrier in front of his eyes.

"I'm sorry my Lord!" he cried, and ran.

With a growl, Loki kicked the singed books that lay now at his feet. Panting with frustration he unconsciously clenched his fists and poured his magical abilities into them, out of habit. Green flame lapped at his fingertips.

His breath slowed as he glanced down at his hand, unfurling his fingers now and letting the small slivers of fire lick around his fingertips. Abruptly, they vanished, leaving him filled with wonder. He had bypassed the safeguards put in place to dampen his abilities, if only for a moment. How?

He tried again, feeling power slowly surging to his palms as he tried to conjure something simple, an apple. The first time, an outline appeared, shimmering in front of him before snapping out. The second, a swirl of green and red mist that dissipated into nothingness. And on he went, for hours, persistence being his nature and driven on by the promise of eventual escape from his cage.

The hours passed and so engrossed was he in his task that the woman was forgotten for the most part. But at the sound of the dungeon doors creaking open and the chains at her wrists, the curiosity about her that had lain dormant in him, once again rose to the fore.

She was dragged back to her cell, hand now healed, but weak from the flogging she had received in punishment. Her shirt had been removed, though they had respected her modesty and returned her corset. The red welts on her back were clearly visible as the guards flung her to the floor viciously, and left.

She sobbed silently, face down, throat raw from screaming, hate radiating from her.

A crunching sound drew her from her silent pain. Turning her tear stained face, she saw the self-righteous prince smirking at her. He sat, lounging in his chair, feet up on his table.

Watching her suffer, while he slowly ate an apple.


	4. Chapter 4

"Having a nice day?" Loki sneered

Silently, she rose, refusing to let him see her any weaker than she was.

She met his gaze and spat at him, the saliva sizzling against the magical boundary.

"Now, now. You already know what kind of treatment naughty girls get. How about telling me your name?"

Loki was met with further silence.

Sighing he tried again.

"You know, since it seems we will both be here a _very_ long time, it might not hurt to become acquainted. It isn't like we have anything else to do. And you never know how you might benefit..."

He knew she was hungry. She hadn't eaten all day and the guards would now withhold her food until morning as continued punishment.

It didn't take much, after all his practice, to make the apple appear in her hand.

"You're welcome." he said, conceitedly, as she jumped, looking down at the fruit in awe.

The girl brought the shiny orb to her mouth, inhaling it's sweet scent deeply. She hadn't tasted fruit in so very long. As she opened her mouth instinctively to bite down, Loki laughed cruelly. A tiger so easily tamed! He was somewhat disappointed!

Her eyes snapped open and she became startlingly aware of what she was doing. She let the apple fall to the floor, crushing it under her foot. The laughter stopped.

"Well, really... there's gratitude for you... Now tell me your _name_, girl."

The self-important smile still lingered on his face as he watched her drag her chair to the centre of her cell, eyes locked on his. Leaning down, she drew a small, battered book from under her mattress and settled in the chair, her red-raw back facing Loki.

Interesting.

She sat for hours, ignoring the servants coming and going to the other inmates with food and clean clothes for the morning. He watched her every moment, while pretending to read himself. Watched her flinch against the fresh wounds at her back, saw her lift the old book to her face and inhale it's scent, saw her finish the volume in her hands, turn it back to the front page and begin again.

"Lights out in 20 minutes!"

Was it so late? And yet still, the girl didn't move, though he and the others made to ready themselves for bed. So enraptured with the text was she. And then a spark of inspiration.

Mustering all his power, Loki concentrated on her cell. Apples yes, but could he do this?

Looking up he saw the pile of books appear at her feet, transported from his table to her.

She shifted slightly and turned to look at him over her shoulder, confusion written on her pretty face.

He bowed to her, arms outstretched, like a stage conjurer revelling in his "Ta daa!" moment.

The lights powered down and he moved to his bed, shedding his shirt. He would try again tomorrow. He _would _know her story. As he settled under the covers, he heard her movement across the way and then quietly, so quietly he might have missed it...

"Rebecca. My name is Rebecca."


	5. Chapter 5

Loki awoke with her name ringing in his ears.

Today he would begin. By the end of the week he hoped he would have her soul stinging worse than that pretty back of hers. She was a fine sideline to play with as he plotted his escape.

The lights rose and he immediately turned to her.

She was knelt at her washbasin, clearing the tears of yesterday from her face with the cool, fresh water. Drops clung to the swell of her bosom, obviously they had not provided her with a new uniform yet and she was still shirtless. Clearly, without his toying with her, just watching her could be fun in itself, Loki thought.

She patted herself dry with the cloth and finally looked up.

"Enjoying the show Asgardian?" she seethed.

Loki let out a laugh and sneered.

"I am no Asgardian, Lady." he retorted.

"And I am no Lady, oaf." she spat.

Loki raised an eyebrow. This girl had spirit.

"Do you prefer wench then? Or baggage? Or criminal perhaps, given your current lodgings."

"Rebecca will suffice." she replied sarcastically, turning away from him.

Obviously, he would have to work hard with this one.

"Very well... Rebecca, allow me to introduce myself. I am..."

"I know who you are, Trickster God," she wheeled round on him with the same fire in her eyes as before, "and though you may not know of me, I am _very_ well acquainted with you and the rest of your miscreant family."

Anger surged in Loki's chest.

"Firstly, you little hell-cat, do not presume to talk to me in such a tone and not expect repercussions!"

He raised his hand and the stripes on her back burned with a white-hot, invisible flame. A scream left her and she dropped to her knees.

"Secondly," his voice turned sickly smooth at her forced acquiescence, "if you could enlighten me as to why you find yourself so familiar with the Royal Family of Asgard?"

She groaned through her suffering and lifted her head. He knew he could not hold her in pain much longer, he could hear the guards already approaching to investigate her cry. He pushed deeper into her wounds, causing her to wail out the words;

"I was sent to kill you!"


	6. Chapter 6

He withdrew his power and her body sagged in relief.

Two guards arrived in front of her, surveying her as she curled on her side, breathless.

"Why the noise, shrew? Was I too heavy handed for you yesterday?"

The men laughed to each other. Rebecca kept her silence.

"Speak, bitch! Or shall I come in there and _make_ you?"

At this, possessiveness flooded Loki and a word flitted through his mind. _Mine_.

He spoke;

"I confess, though she deserves such attentions, the thought of you rutting in my sight sickens me somewhat."

The two guards span round and begrudgingly bowed their heads. He smiled, pompously.

A prisoner, yet still a Prince.

"Lord Loki. I apologise for my frank words but this girl has been nothing but trouble since she arrived."

"I'm sure. But do not disturb me with such matters."

"Yes, my Lord."

The guard turned and struck Rebecca's cell wall with his pike, making her jump.

"You! Keep quiet in there! One more outburst and I'll add to that decoration on your back!"

With a stiff nod towards Loki, the guards left to retake their posts.

Rebecca shuddered on the floor. After a moment surveying his work, Loki spoke.

"Now," he cooed, "Are you more willing to converse? Or shall I loosen your tongue further?"

She shook her head, too wracked with pain and weakened by hunger to object.

Loki grinned.

"Good. Why were you sent here, assassin?"

Hissing at the agony of movement, she lifted herself up to kneel and began to speak, head bowed.

"I am of Vanaheim. Two years ago, Asgard soldiers came to my world to claim new slaves. None of my people thought they would choose from our village. We are peaceful, remote. But they came."

Loki shifted forward, listening intently.

"They took four from us. All girls. All just of age. All virgins." Her eyes met his. "You know why."

"The Meretrix." He said, coldly.

A tear slid from her eye. She brushed it away, her grief tinged with fury.

"Those beautiful, pure girls. Taken. For you. And your brother. And the rest of your corrupt, nefarious court. All of them made whores, prostituted at thirteen years of age for the... amusement of the Asgardian upper classes."

Loki remained unmoved. He was not given to sentiment.

"And why, girl, should any of this matter to you? You were not chosen for subjugation. Why should your people send you to avenge these circumstances? We have recruited others from your world for such services before."

"I chose to come." Rebecca breathed deeply and turned her face away.

"They took my sister."


	7. Chapter 7

He remembered the small red-haired girl that was led shivering into the Great Hall.

He and Thor had gathered with Odin to inspect the new Meretrix recruitment. Loki was bored, infinitely preferring to seduce the higher class women of the court than choose from the Palace's harem unless absolutely necessary.

Odin strode up the line of girls, lifting their faces and pulling open their mouths to scrutinise their teeth. Loki raked a lackadaisical eye down the line and was struck by the vibrancy of the fifth girl's red hair. Pretty but too young. Not enough to tempt him. Maybe in a few years, with more experience under her belt.

He sighed and examined his fingernails, eager to get back to his books.

A yelp and sharp slap brought him back to the room, just in time to see Thor step forward beside him. The guards rushed forward to restrain the red-head and Odin held his hand to his reddened cheek.

"Witch!" he boomed, "You dare strike the AllFather?!"

The girl shrank away as he bellowed into her face.

"You are a slave now, harridan and you _will_ learn respect."

Odin turned to the guards.

"Take her to the dungeons and restrain her. No food, no water until I command. Have the others delivered to their quarters and prepared for service. NOW!"

With that, pride stung and anger flowing through his veins, Odin stalked from the hall.

As the rest were sent away, Loki and Thor exchanged glances.

"Well, that was certainly different." Loki muttered.

"Yes, we'll see how long that one lasts! And who is brave enough to take her on!" Thor replied.

That was the last he had heard of the girl, never bothering to enquire after her. Why should he care about such a slave? But now, knowing something of her identity, he wondered at what had become of her.

He looked back at Rebecca, trembling in her cell with pain and grief.

Something like pity coursed through him and he felt compelled to comfort her.

"I hate you to disappoint you girl, but your anger towards me is misplaced."

She lifted her eyes to him, searching his face for deceit.

"I prefer a nobler breed for my bedfellow. Though I cannot account for the tastes of the others of my kind."

He caught her gaze and gestured to his surroundings, "I can't say I'm all too warm toward them myself, as you can plainly see."

God of Lies he may be, but there was nothing in his air to make her think anything he was saying was false.

"In fact, should you still wish for vengeance, my friendship may be worth more than you think."

A cool sensation spread across her back, making her gasp and all vestige of pain left her.

She flung her hands behind her, feeling only smooth, unmarked skin. Mouth agape, she stood and stared over at Loki in amazement.

That smirk again.

"You're welcome."

And with a final glance he walked back to lounge on his bed, turning all his attention to one of his books.


	8. Chapter 8

Rebecca sat observing her dungeon companion.

After their conversation, he hadn't spoken a word to her, nor even looked her way, just lay, relaxed on his bed, leafing lazily through his book.

She had taken in every word he had said. She had no reason to believe him, but something in his manner of speaking made her think twice. His own people had imprisoned him, why? And he had healed her had he not?

She would never trust him, he wasn't called the God of Mischief for nothing, but his comment on the benefits of his friendship had caught her attention.

She mirrored him, sitting on her mattress, back against the wall, taking a book from the stack he had left her the previous night. The books, she thought, another surprising gesture.

Opening the volume, she scanned the page. Midgardian myths and legends. Her eyebrows shot up. Hmm. Not what she would have expected. The fallen Prince was clearly more of an enigma than she imagined.

She peered over the cover of the book at the man lay prone on the opulent bed.

He didn't look the brute she had imagined.

He was tall and lean in a strong, elegant way. The green of his shirt set off his alabaster skin and clung to the taut muscles it covered. His black hair slicked back, framing high cheekbones and an angular jaw. She had seen the thin lips curl cruelly and yet smile in a not unappealing way but it was his eyes that now absorbed her.

The deep verdigris reminded her of the forests of her homeland. She could almost smell the sweet, damp moss and hear the running water of streams and waterfalls when she looked into them. She knew if she were able to look deeper, there would be flecks of gold, the rays of sunlight glinting down through dark evergreens...

How long had it been since she had seen the sunlight?

How long since she had felt the breeze on her face?

How long since Loki had dropped his book to meet her ardent stare?

She jolted at this last revelation and blushed violently, snapping her attention to the book on her knees before her.

She heard him snigger across the way.

Had her breathing quickened? It certainly felt like it.

Did she yearn for her freedom so much? Or was it the thought of being close enough to see golden flecks in Loki's eyes...

The thump in her chest suggested the latter.

Infuriated at her weakness, she slammed the book shut, sliding it across the floor, swinging her body flat to the mattress and raising her legs to lean on the wall. Rebecca lifted her hands to rest on her brow and closed her eyes, exhaling slowly.

Yesterday she had had nothing but hatred for the royals of Asgard and their courtiers. Now? Now one of them had thrown her into confusion. She lay in a tumult, unsure of her emotions and making no progress in righting them.

A delicious aroma roused her from her thoughts. Turning her head, she saw a golden bowl, filled with soup, steam rising from it. She looked over at Loki who sat upright now, and nodded at him before taking the bowl in her hands.

He watched her drink, deeply at first, then slowly, savouring every nourishing mouthful.

_Good girl,_ he thought, _I'm going to need you strong..._


	9. Chapter 9

The lights flickered off for the night, the same old routine of the day.

Granted, this week had been easier to bear than the last two years.

Rebecca had become accustomed to Loki's conversation, talking of her home and childhood. Loki, ever the showman, delighted in provoking astonished smiles from her with illusions and conjuring.

They ate together, he transporting a portion of his more palatable meal over to replace her meagre one. He asked about her treatment at the hands of the guards. He had never used his powers to harm her again.

She lay on her mattress now, eyes closed, thinking about him.

She loved to watch his long, deft fingers curling around the magic that flowed from them, twisting it to his will. The calmness that washed over his face as he focused on controlling the energy within him. He was truly at peace when spell-casting, she had noted.

She let her mind slip to other thoughts. Thoughts that had, with increasing frequency, been creeping to the fore of her reveries.

Those captivating fingers, trailing fire on her skin, running down her belly, her thighs. His hands moving over her, raising goose-flesh wherever they went. Never mind the sun, the trees, how long had it been since she had felt any of this?

Her imagination took hold, growing vivid and intense.

His lips at her collarbone, his teeth softly grazing her skin. The laces of her corset yielding to his touch, the enticing caress of his breath at her ear.

By the nine, even in her imagination, he left her breathless.

A sound brought her back to reality.

A metallic hum, soft but, to ears trained by two years of rigid nightly routine, different enough to warrant alertness.

With a rustle it ceased.

The only sound that remained was her breath and the heartbeat that pounded in her ears.

She tentatively rose on her elbows, straining to see through the gloom.

Nothingness... but a sense of the room being fuller... more occupied.

Before she could react, a cold hand clamped firmly over her lips, stifling any scream she might have made. She fell back against the mattress, grasping at the arm that pinned her, but frozen with fear and realization.

The guard who flogged her.

Here to exact his threatened punishment. Well, she'd be damned if she'd give him the satisfaction of giving in without a fight.

She raised her knee to meet his side, striking against leather armour and knowing immediately that it had had near to no effect. She squirmed beneath him and raised a hand to claw at his face, but it was caught in another icy grip.

"Easy my little tigress, or you might hurt yourself."

A whisper at her ear.

Loki was in her cell.


	10. Chapter 10

"Get up girl and dress yourself quickly, we're going on a little trip." ,Loki murmured.

He released his grip on her and she sat up, gulping down air.

"What are you doing in..?" she began, but her interrupted her sharply.

"Answers will be given to you later. For now, I must ask that you do as I ask without question. Do you understand?"

Whispering her assent, she rose and quickly pulled on her clothes, grateful of the murky blackness that obscured her semi-naked form from his gaze.

Loki waited, eyes moving impatiently and alert to each and every noise coming from the dungeon. He was focused on escape, he could taste it. Resolving himself to take the girl had torn at his nature. He had partly convinced himself it was due to her promised skill with weapons, or that he could use her as bait to distract any guards should they become trapped.

"I'm ready.", came her soft voice from behind him.

"I can only assume you know how to use this, assassin.", he breathed, pressing her hand about the hilt of a conjured sword.

"Not my favourite, but it will just have to do.", she replied, a bold smile in her voice.

His lips twitched at her facetiousness, and he pulled her after him to the humming magical boundary of her confines.

"We will be rendered invisible by my powers and must slip out at the change of the guard but I require total silence, do you understand?" he breathed.

Not waiting for a response, Loki drew his hands over the window, pulling back the magical fabric to create a door. Rebecca recognized the same buzzing that had disturbed her minutes before.

Heart pounding, she stepped lightly after Loki, through the partition and down the steps to the dungeon floor. She felt the familiar cool, liquid sensation of magic pouring over her, concealing them and then Loki's hand taking hers.

Walking softly to avoid noticeable footsteps, they reached the heavy iron doors just as the guard's replacements entered, and slipped out behind them under the cover of their mindless chatter. The candlelight gave her the chance to see her liberator up close for the first time. His green and gold armour, the fact that he was a good foot taller than her and, sure enough, the sun's rays in his eyes.

As they rounded the corner he backed her into a small recess in the wall, wrapping his strong arms about her waist. They were close, very close to each other and his mouth curled into a grin at the catch of her breath in her throat. She looked up at him, encompassed by the alien feeling of his closeness after a week of being metres away.

Leaning his face down to hers, he ran his lips along her jawline, making her eyes close, as he knew they would. He brought them to hers, barely, just barely grazing them there, before tearing them away, mischief gleaming in his eyes.

"Hold on.", he laughed.

Her eyes flew open, anger rising in her as she realised he was only mocking her, but before she could respond, her vision blurred, there was a pull in her stomach and the world fell away.


	11. Chapter 11

She landed with a thump, feeling sick to her stomach, hitting the floor at Loki's feet as he suppressed a laugh.

"Transportation is difficult the first time, you will recover."

"You, are a beast.", she hissed through her hyperventilation.

"And you are a traitor to the crown.", he replied, moving towards her, "I think that makes us even."

After he helped her to her feet, Loki began to move around the room, opening drawers and wardrobes whilst Rebecca took in their surroundings. They were in a dark chamber, cold, as if uninhabited for some time, with a high ceiling and opulent green and filigree décor. Dominating the space was a huge bed, velvet and satin covered with curtain draping at each corner. She had never imagined such comfort and felt drowsy just looking at it.

"My old quarters are a change from what you're used to, I know."

Loki's words brought her back to reality as he handed her a leather knapsack to match the one he now slung across his body.

"Why have you brought us here? Why not out of the castle?", she questioned.

"Provisions.", he answered, patting the bag that lay just above his hip.

Swiftly, he was holding her again, the pull on her abdomen familiar this time. She faltered only slightly as they landed, knees buckling, but not falling and he was impressed at her quick adjustment to transportation. Immediately, he brought his finger to her lips, stilling her to silence.

They were in the shadows of a courtyard now. Footsteps echoed on the stones underfoot. Guards on patrol. Glancing about, she saw the harbour, lined with small carrier ships. Now she understood.

There were only two guards here, one dispatched quickly from behind by Loki's dagger across his throat and the other joining him soon after. He toppled their now limp bodies into the water far below and beckoned her to join him on board the nearest vessel.

Eyes trained on the mountains in the distance he started the ship, pressing gently on the buttons at the controls.

"Onward to freedom, eh, lady?", he grinned.

She only had a moment to register the unparalleled joy on his face before they surged at lightening speed into the night.

She had never flown so quickly, and terror gripped her. He was clearly a master at the helm, smoothly guiding them around obstacles, dodging and swerving with ease and obvious pleasure. She clung to the side, wind whipping through her hair and watched uneasily as the mountains loomed up in front of them, getting ever closer.

"Shouldn't we be slowing down?", she yelled above the wind's roar.

He answered with a throaty laugh and a wink.

The mountains grew nearer.

"No... _really_! Shouldn't we be slowing the Hel down?!"

Panic crept into her words.

He looked at the woman beneath him, hair a mass of flame thrashing around her in the gale and felt himself stiffen slightly under the glare of her anxious, wide eyes. He must remind himself to shock her more often if the result was so alluring.

"There are more ways than one to leave Asgard but if they were easy, everyone would be using them!"

The skiff shifted and she turned to see the small crevice in the rock face that they now resolutely headed for.

Spinning to face him he screamed;

"Are you _mad_?!"

"Possibly...", he shrugged as the mountain closed in around them and they were pulled away from the world.


	12. Chapter 12

Loki awoke first. It was still early, just dawn and the world glowed pale yellow, it's rays seeping down through the treetops above them.

He looked down at the girl alongside him. She had been drawn unconsciously to the heat of his body during the chill of the night and she was now so close he could see the dew that still clung to her hair.

She was a pretty thing, he didn't regret bringing her along, if only for the view.

And what a view.

He allowed himself to take her in with his eyes. Her hair fell about her face, livid red against her cream skin. This close he could see the light spattering of freckles across her nose, constellations on the perfect white sky of her face. The V-shape of the tendons in her neck pointing over her throat to the curve of her breasts under her rough, prison shirt. And further down her body, where her shirt had ridden up to her naval, her hips, curving downwards, tantalising him with the promise of what lay beyond.

He drank her in, feeling himself grow harder as he fought the urge to pin her to the deck of the small ship and force himself into her, relishing in her whimpers for him to stop.

Letting out a sharp breath as his stomach ached with lust, he rose quickly to walk off his arousal and collect fresh water from the small, clear river nearby.

When he returned, Rebecca had awoken and was rubbing the last remnants of sleep from her eyes, unused to the daylight.

"Good Morning." he said, curtly, almost blaming her internally for inciting his lust.

She looked drowsily to him and repeated his words in answer. He ignored her, setting the water down and arranging a light breakfast between them. Joining him, she asked;

"Where are we?"

"The forests of Alfheim."

She noticed that he would not meet her eyes as he answered her, the tension in his jaw and shoulders as he began to eat. She retained the silence between them and looked around her, stomach flipping with joy at her freedom. She longed to explore.

"How did you come to be imprisoned?"

His question shattered the quiet air between them and she turned to find his emerald eyes boring into her.

"I... I told you.", she stammered. "My people sent me to take as many of your court's lives as possible."

"Including my own." His expression was blank, unreadable.

"Yes...", she unwillingly admitted.

"And yet evidently, you did not succeed."

Her pride was spiked, and ire flared in her. Why was he asking this?

"Evidently.", she snapped.

"I disguised myself as a Meretrix and stole to your brother's quarters. He didn't remember ordering me but, funnily enough, he didn't turn me down."

Loki's jaw tensed tightly but she continued, standing up to leave.

"I had my dagger to his throat before he wrestled my hand away. I was seconds away from spilling his blood because he was so preoccupied with his desire. So easily manipulated are Royal men with a woman in their bed!"

"Stop.", he growled. "Before I lose my patience with you."

But she had been burned and all her resentment poured out to him.

"Why? Because I dishonour the family you claim to hate so? You asked and I answered!"

He leapt up and dug his fingers into her arms, roaring his reply.

"_Because I cannot stand the thought of him having you!"_

He threw her to the ground.

They both froze, panting with rage, in shocked silence.

His own admission stunned and disgusted him. His earlier carnal thoughts burned deeply within him.

She slowly rose from the floor, eyes brimming with angry tears.

She stalked up to him, face inches away from his own and locked his eyes with hers, before hissing bitterly;

"Oh you have nothing to fear on that account, _my_ _lord_. I swore long, long ago that I would _never_ allow _any_ Crown Prince of Asgard inside me."


	13. Chapter 13

He watched her, his glare burning into her back as she turned on her heel and stalked off into the trees. With a bellow of frustration, he flung the unfinished breakfast before him to the ground and began to pace back and forth, frantically.

Thoughts tumbled through his mind. Possessiveness was in his very nature and neither was he a stranger to the competitiveness of sibling rivalry. But this... this was something else. Something unknown that flared in him. That brought tightness to his chest and tension to his stomach.

It almost felt like hate. Almost like regret.

He sank to sit on the steps of the carrier, head resting in his hands. Bringing her was a mistake. He must concentrate now. He had to shield them from the gaze of the ever-watchful Heimdall. The guards would surely have been alerted to their escape by now and the Guardian's eyes would soon be turned on the Nine Worlds, searching for the fugitives.

A noise roused him from his reflections. A soft sound of disorder, disturbance.

Not too far away.

His body tensed, listening hard.

There.

A cry of pain. Feminine.

Rebecca.

He was on his feet immediately, sword conjured to his grasp, running at full speed.

The trees bit at his face. The ground under his feet doing everything it could to trip him, slow his progress. Where _was_ she?! She couldn't have gone far!

And then, without warning, he was engaged in battle.

Alfheim warriors?

But they were a peaceful race, immune to wars, remaining neutral until it became impossible for them to be so. There was only one reason their forces would have been mobilised.

Him.

Heimdall worked swiftly.

He fought, slashing at his attackers with impeccable technique. Their obvious lack of battle experience showed and they fell effortlessly at his hand. He was quite enjoying himself. A good fight was something he had missed, though he hadn't expected to engage in one quite so soon.

Loki dispatched the last of the assailants that surrounded him and turned.

She was just feet away, back against a tree.

She had acquired an Alfheim bow and quiver and was deftly loading and firing arrows at a small group of archers that had cornered her. He was momentarily transfixed by her skill before moving to conceal himself.

She was very close to emptying the quiver at her back. Soon, they would be able to advance on her.

Rebecca knew this.

Her body coursed with fear and adrenalin. She could do nothing now but try and make every shot count. Gods, how could she have been so stupid?! Foolish she, to think they were out of danger, that no-one would be looking for them here.

Drawing back her arm, she took aim at the nearest archer, silently cursing herself and wishing, _wishing _that Loki were by her side.

But the bolt never left her hand.

Before she could release it, a wall of green flame flared up in front of her, separating her from her foes.

Then a strong, careful hand at her waist, pulling her close, the other enveloping her against his chest as the blood rushed to her head and her vision faded to blackness.


	14. Chapter 14

Rebecca's eyelids flickered. They desperately wanted to resist opening. Pain jolted through her side. At least she was warm, wherever she was.

Tortuously, she opened her eyes. Thank the Gods the room was dim.

She was in a small cabin, lying on soft furs that covered a narrow pallet bed. A fire crackled in the small grating and in front of it, sitting tensely in a chair, was her rescuer.

Loki stared into the flames, lips tight against the hand that he rested his chin upon. The glow from the hearth lit the angles of his face. Rebecca couldn't help thinking how astonishing he looked. He had shed his armour and was dressed as she remembered him from their captivity. She decided she liked him better this way. He was somehow softer, less intimidating.

Thirst hit her, she swallowed dryly, her throat arid and her lips dusty. Slowly, she tried to rise, but pain coursed through her and she automatically cried out, short and sharp.

He was by her side instantly.

"Try not to move," he said, softly, "The wound is deep, I am healing you, but it will take time."

For the first time, she glanced down.

The gash under her ribs was covered in a clean, dark cloth. She recalled the initial shock as the Alfheim's dagger slashed at her. She hadn't been ready, she had been angry, inattentive to her surroundings. The elf had attacked from the side. It had taken all her strength to turn his weapon against him and defend herself against the melee that followed. So stupid, she was so stupid.

"Do not trouble yourself over such things. You are safe now, I will attend to you until you are well."

She hadn't realised she had been speaking aloud. Rebecca studied Loki's face. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he looked over her bandage.

"I'm sorry Loki, I shouldn't have said the things I did." Her voice cracked with dehydration.

"I understand."

"No, please. Accept my apology. This was all my fault."

Tears pooled at the corners of Rebecca's eyes. She blinked through them and turned her face away.

Loki sighed. He was tired, she could tell.

"You have no need to apologise to me. It was my own foolishness that caused this. I should have behaved in a more gentleman-like manner."

His thumb brushed the tear-drops from her cheek.

"Rest, I will bring nourishment."

He watched her eyes close and finished adjusting the gauze on her side. He couldn't help noticing the gentle curve of her waist under his hand. The softness of the pale skin that would now be marked forever. Resisting the urge to trail his fingers down her body, he rose and crossed the room, hands rubbing the lethargy from his face.

Exhaustion was upon him, he had spent hours casting concealment spells over the disused shack he had found for them, healing the girl to the best extent of his powers and then stealthily returning to their former camp to retrieve the ship and provisions.

He had nothing left. But looking at her lying there, bathed in the dusky light of the fire, the familiar swelling inside him grew. He filled a bowl with the broth that bubbled quietly in the embers and made his way back to her side.

He needed her strong.

More than that, he admitted to himself, pushing his pride away.

He needed her.


	15. Chapter 15

Rain hammered at the thatch above them. The weather had turned a week ago, as Rebecca had begun to rise and regain her mobility. She stood now, at the small window, gazing out at the deluge.

Loki sat in front of the fire, absent-mindedly conjuring miniature figures that danced for his amusement. Her sigh made him look up at her.

She had finally gained the strength to change days ago, his back turned to respect her decency. His chest had constricted as she tossed the ripped, bloodied corset into the fire, blushing as she joked at it's uselessness. The prison uniform was worthless now, shirt torn and bloody, only the leggings had survived but were bloodstained even after cleaning.

She had dressed in the only thing that fit her. One of his over-shirts that fell just above her knee. Her hair shone with the light from the fire, she had surprised him by rushing out into the rainfall to wash it. Her blue eyes reflected the dull light from the miserable afternoon outside, making it's greyness beautiful.

She turned to him, aware of his eyes on her, a half-smile on her lips.

"Why does the gentleman scrutinise me so?" she teased.

He laughed; "I was wondering where your thoughts had led you. There is nothing outside that window but rain and yet, you seemed to see more."

Her smile faded and she turned back to the daylight.

"I was thinking about my sister. I shouldn't have left without her."

Loki tensed. He had not accounted for her sister in his selfish bid to escape. He searched for the words to comfort her but, too late, she had broken the silence with a soft laugh and had padded over to sit by his side.

"What occupies _your_ time, sir?"

The dancers before him diffused into the air. A little fun was in order.

"Now? Your conversation, lady. I was raised a Prince after all, and all gentlemen are taught attentiveness to the... fairer sex."

His expression brought a blush to her face and she averted her eyes. _There_ was the Prankster she had heard so much about. She had begun to wonder where he had gone in the face of the past fortnight's kindnesses.

"I see." she breathed. "Aren't I the lucky one?"

Was it her imagination, or was he closer as she turned back to him?

He wasn't looking at her face, instead choosing to be intrigued by the dip of her collarbone and shoulder that had become bared as the too-big shirt had slid treacherously to the side.

"Oh, I don't know about that..." He murmured, "I'm feeling rather lucky myself..."

His breath ebbed and flowed over her exposed skin, goose-flesh betraying her body's involuntary reactions to his closeness.

His lips were so close, grazing up her neck, just, _just, _touching her. Her breathing was laboured, heavy with lust. It took all her strength to speak, quietly, through her need.

"Luck has nothing to do with it. Royalty, such as yourself, may simply _take_ what they want."

Something snapped in him.

Her back slammed against the fur that lay along the hearth, his lips crashing down on hers as she gasped into his mouth.


	16. Chapter 16

Her hands flew to his hair, pulling him closer.

He was ravenous for her, running his hands over the soft curves beneath her shirt. She had tormented him long enough. She winced against his kiss as his fingers caught against the, mostly healed now, but still tender wound.

"I'm sorry." she whispered, desperate not to ruin what they had begun.

He simply smirked down at her and rose to his knees, eyes gleaming down at her.

His hands ran up her thighs, to where the shirt had pooled at her lap, making her ache at her very core. Eyes locked on hers, he pushed the fabric up about her ribs, making her blush as she became exposed.

Closing his eyes, he leaned down to her, softly kissing the hollow just below her sternum. Want flooded her body. His kisses travelled along her rib to the sore, livid, mark. She flinched as he reached it.

"Do you trust me, maiden?" he breathed, breaking away from her.

"Never." she smiled, instinctively arching up to him.

He grinned, madly.

"Good girl." he chuckled, lips pressing down hard to the mark on her side.

She cried out in agony at the harsh contact, tears welling up inside her.

The sound made his cock twitch with excitement and he held her there, writhing under him until he thought she'd had enough.

Magic poured through his lips into her side, the last vestiges of pain leaving her as the icy cold of enchantment flooded her skin, mending her completely, leaving only a faint silver scar as a reminder.

She was dizzy with longing and the memory of discomfort, panting beneath him.

He _could_ let her recover, give her time to catch her breath and realise what he had just done for her.

But, patience was not a virtue he was particularly fond of.

Rebecca yelped in shock as she felt his lips again. But _definitely_ not where she expected them. She hadn't noticed him inch her legs apart. Hadn't noticed as he moved effortlessly down her body. But this, _this_ she noticed.

His kisses ran over the soft lips of her slit, teasing them open with his tongue. By the Nine, she was so ready for him, so wet. He was unbearably hard in his breeches now, he would have to take her soon. But the reactions his tongue drew from her were delectable.

She moaned and gasped, hips pushing unconsciously against him. And then very slowly, very deliberately, he enveloped her clit with his mouth. And sucked.

She came apart quickly then, hands now thrust into his hair and in the next, grasping at the fur beneath her. She wailed his name as she came, pulsing against his lips.

As she recovered, Loki pulled off his shirt, watching her eyes sleepily flutter open.

Rebecca had no words for what she had just experienced and gazed at Loki through half-closed eyes. She watched as he peeled off his breeches, confident and unashamed. Shyly, she turned her face away from his nakedness.

She felt his weight return beside her and allowed him to lift the shirt up and over her head. Fully bared to him, his lust for her came to a peak. Her breasts were perfect, her body, flowing arcs that tantalised him. Her shyness enchanted him, gave him power, the only thing he truly loved.

Now, he would have her and it would be glorious.

Rebecca's eyes flew open to meet his as he moved between her thighs.

Her nervousness had gotten the better of her, he knew.

"I.. I should..." she stammered.

"You are dazzling." he smirked, bringing his lips to hers as he thrust, finally into her.

He couldn't help but groan. So tight, just as he had imagined. A whimper beneath him brought him back to reality. Rebecca's brow was creased, she was certainly not in as much pleasure as he had anticipated.

He met her anxious gaze, questions burning in his eyes as she spoke.

"You were right to call me maiden..."


	17. Chapter 17

Rebecca bit her lip and turned away. She had ruined everything. Why had she not warned him before now? Loki had stiffened when she admitted her virginity and she had not held his stare for fear of seeing the anger at her deception flare in his eyes.

She was going to cry, she knew it.

His fingers traced the lines of her face, brushing the auburn curls aside.

"You have given me something precious, to be treasured."

She looked at him in shock, holding her breath.

"Thank you." was his final whisper as he kissed her deeply, hands curled into her hair.

They moved together then, their closeness not enough to satisfy either of them. At her nodded assent, he began to push slowly in, and out of her tightness. She had him on the edge with her confession and as he sheathed himself inside her again, and again, he fought hard to keep control.

Their movements grew quicker, her hips beginning to find the rhythm, rising to meet his. He groaned against her neck as she pushed him deeper into her, arching her back and panting lustfully.

Her arms slid up above her head and he wrapped both her wrists in his hand, leaning up so the other could explore the wonderfully supple flesh of her softly bouncing breasts. His need overtook him and his thrusts quickened, eliciting a delightfully brazen moan from his lover. He was gone, her pleasure hijacking his own and with a growl he fell on top of her and slammed himself mercilessly into her.

Rebecca's eyes flew open wide at the change and her moaning matched his, becoming louder and louder until the heat inside her reached crescendo and she stiffened in his arms, grasping at his flesh and screaming his name into his shoulder. He had joined her in climax, her wanton, "Loki!", tipping him over the edge. He had plunged into her, coming hard inside her warm wetness, unable to do anything but groan out his pleasure.

They lay together, spent, until the sky grew dark and the fire dwindled to embers.

Rebecca looked up at the drowsy Prince next to her, his mouth curled into a content smile as his fingers traced the lines of her body.

"Silvertongue indeed..." she managed.

His laugh was filthy and coarse and she felt her clit throb in response.

"You have no idea..." he replied.

After a moment of silence, she brought her hand to his cheek.

"What do we do now, Loki? We can't stay here forever."

His brow became lined with thought and he rose, pacing to the window.

"You're right," he said, pausing before straightening up with confidence, " I think, we should pay my dear Father a visit and see if we can't locate your sister. Maybe, with your help, we can even reclaim my birthright, my throne."

She shivered at the power and threat in his voice.

"That is, of course, all in good time..."

She looked at him questioningly as he turned to her, mischief shining in his eyes.

"We aren't leaving here, just yet." he whispered, returning to lie on top of her shivering body. He kissed her slowly, leaving her breathless.

"No, we aren't leaving here until you know _exactly_ what the nickname 'Silvertongue' means..."


End file.
